


what a plot twist you were

by Spheryn



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Characters to be added as I get to them, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Freeform, Honestly this is going to be a very whim-indulgent piece, Isekai, Rating May Change, Reader-Insert, Slice of Life, reader is female, unbeta'd we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-20 18:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30008907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spheryn/pseuds/Spheryn
Summary: There’s a lot of things you’d expect to see outside your window, come an early morning Monday.Birds. Clouds. Maybe a few crazy people out for ‘morning jogs’. Cars—Not a streak of green slowly overtaking the pale blue sky, ripping apart clouds and everything else in its way.—You wake up to a green mist consuming everything, yourself included. It goes on from there.A collection of shorts! One or two-shot pieces (probably), featuring different champions.
Relationships: Viego (League of Legends)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Needs Context](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24166735) by [orangecrushcrushcrush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangecrushcrushcrush/pseuds/orangecrushcrushcrush). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Such a long, long way to fall

There’s a lot of things you’d expect to see outside your window, come an early morning Monday.

Birds. Clouds. Maybe a few crazy people out for ‘morning jogs’. Cars—

 _Not_ a streak of green slowly overtaking the pale blue sky, ripping apart clouds and everything else in its way. _Not_ dark tendrils of mist pouring from said rift to flood the streets, covering entire buildings before your very stunned eyes. Entire apartment buildings are consumed in front of you, the mist beginning to take up more of your vision as it approached your apartment.

—Oh god it was approaching your apartment.

Panic has you darting away from the window like a spooked hare, searching your room frantically. You dive for your phone, wallet, and keys, barely remembering to lock the door behind you as you all but sprint out the door and away from— _whatever_ the fuck that mist is.

Flats, shorts, and a tank top may not have been the ideal attire for a sudden run for your life — it's fucking cold, and you can’t stop your teeth from chattering — but a quick look over your shoulder tells you that anyone who’d criticize your choice of apocalypse-attire can fuck right off into the tidal wave-like mist.

That’srightbehindyouohgodoh **fuck**.

You run a little faster, legs burning in complaint as you're very quickly reminded of all those rain-checked gym days. When this is over, you’re investing in a personal trainer, holy _shit._ You’re so close to your car, your beloved Hyundai that you promise never to call a bucket of bolts ever again if it can get you the hell away from the all-consuming green stuff. You preemptively start fumbling for your keys — stuffed in your bra, because where else would you put them? A totally acceptable place to put them, fuck you, Susan — gasping for breath and starting to falter the closer you get. Almost there, almost there.

And then you trip.

Who knows over what, could’ve been a damn pebble, but suddenly you’re falling. You squeal curses on the way down, eyes squeezing shut and bracing yourself for an impact with the cold, hard ground. . .

. . . That never comes?

Opening your eyes in bewilderment, you kinda wish you’d kept them closed when you see why you hadn’t hit the ground. There is no ground. There is no _anything_. All you can see around you is wavering darkness, a nauseating swirl of black that presses in at all sides. Distantly, you think you can hear a name called, but it’s drowned out beneath the rhythmic pulse of the mist. 

It quickly overtakes your senses. All you can hear is the mist’s eerie heart beating sluggishly out of sync with your own hummingbird pulse. You can’t feel or see _anything,_ and it is only when your stomach lurches that you realize you're falling once more, but it sure as hell feels like a farther fall than where the concrete should’ve been. You scream, and scream, and _scream_ , and only stop when your throat is killing you and you realize— 

_Hey, shouldn’t you have hit something by now?_

Confusion overtakes your fear slowly but surely, and throughout it all you continue to fall. You think. It’s not like you can actually… see, or anything. It’s still just the weird mist and heartbeat sounds, the faintest impression of movement and the twisting of your stomach. As minutes pass — or hours, you can’t tell — and the adrenaline begins to fade, you feel yourself beginning to fade. Sleeping is the absolute last thing you want to do, but suddenly your fatigue is overwhelming. It weighs on your eyelids and cottons over your mind, until you finally give in. Your eyes slip shut as unconsciousness takes you, and your last coherent thought is a desperate prayer to be free of the mist when you wake up. 

—

You get your wish. 


	2. Viego - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rev·e·nant  
> /ˈrevənənt,ˈˌrevəˈˌnänt/  
> a person who has returned, especially supposedly from the dead.

. . . Well, sort of.

When you open your eyes, it’s to a gloomy grey sky and a shiver wracking your frame. You’re… damp, the stone ground beneath you wet like it just rained. Maybe it had, it’s not like you have any way of knowing. Sitting up makes you groan, your back sore — how long had you been out? — but your achiness is quickly the last of your concerns as you take in the scenery around you.   
  
This was definitely not your quaint little neighbourhood. 

You’re in the middle of some kind of ruins, a building that might have been grand once that has since been reduced to mostly rubble and a few pillars still standing tall. A stone archway is still mostly intact, and its design reminds you of some old, fancy church. More concerningly, the more you glance around, the more you notice the sickly green fog permeating the entire area. It’s uncomfortably similar to the mist that landed you here, and doesn’t inspire much in the ways of comfort. 

“Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore. . .” You mumble to yourself, because the eerie surroundings are bad enough without equally eerie silence too. 

When you’re finally done blinking dumbly at the foreign surroundings, you push yourself to a stand. Regardless of how much you feel like you’ve stumbled into a lovecraftian novel, you’re only getting chillier sitting on the damp ground. You lament not swiping a jacket on your way out, but you had been kind of _running for your life_ , so you don’t berate yourself too harshly. Stopping beneath the archway, you can’t help but feel more than a little reluctant to leave your shabby ruins when you see what you’d be venturing out into. 

‘Lovecraftian’ was a fucking _understatement_. 

The fog that surrounds the ruins seems to have overtaken everything, but it doesn’t hide anything from sight like it had when you fell. You might’ve felt better if it did, really. More dilapidated structures line both sides of a crumbly staircase, with your ruins sitting at the top. At the bottom, there is what can only be described as a _gaping void_ that’s slowly _consuming_ the loose rubble from all the derelict buildings. You pale and quickly look away, the irrational fear that if you look at it too long you’ll be pulled in too spiking through you. 

Yeah, fuck that.

While the creepy forest that greets you when you climb out the remains of a window on the other side of your safety ruins gives you pause, it’s still not enough to make you tempt fate with the devouring pit of _doom_. Half-skidding, half-stumbling down a mossy hill, it doesn’t take long at all to find yourself surrounded by spindly, black trees. You don’t really have a destination in mind, but you’d glimpsed a shoreline on your way down and really, ‘away’ seems like a pretty good plan all around.

At least, that’s what you keep reminding yourself as distant somethings howl and bushes rustle with nothing in sight. Since you don’t really see this being a squirrel-friendly forest, each new little noise makes you just a little bit more tense, hunching forward with your arms crossed tightly over your chest and eyes darting around. A particular loud snap from behind you makes your whirl, relaxing fractionally when nothing catches your eye before turning around— 

And find yourself face to face with a college kid’s worst nightmare. It’s a horrifying floating. . . thing that looks like it’s mostly made out of old paper, the spine of a book visible on it’s. . . side? Something straight out of a nightmare, the kind you might get right after you’ve fallen asleep on your textbook with a deadline in a few hours. You feel all your air get stuck in your throat, and when it turns it’s glowing facehole towards and snaps it’s bookmark of a tongue at you like it wants a taste, well.

You scream. 

You scream bloody fucking murder and run. You don’t care if all the camping survival tips you’ve ever learned involve being quiet in a forest full of dangerous things, because when you look over your shoulder to see it chasing you on with a very big, very sharp pen grasped in its pages, you scream even louder. It goes on like this for a while: You, running and screaming, and it, chasing you and waving it’s paper-arms threateningly in your direction. 

And then you trip, _again_ , sprawling painfully onto the ground hard enough to know you’ll be feeling it when you’re no longer running on 100% adrenaline and fear. If you make it that far. Your chances seem pretty slim when you roll onto your back and realize it has already caught up to and is wielding that pen like a spear. You squeeze your eyes shut and prepare yourself for death by writing instrument — and a couple of things happen very quickly, with your death shockingly being none of them. 

You hear a sharp swooshing noise, the ‘ _shiing_ ’ of metal slicing through air, and then it’s quiet. Really quiet, actually. The distant howling, the creepy forest noises — they’ve all gone quiet, and that’s almost as concerning as hearing them in the first place, so you begrudgingly open your eyes with great apprehension. 

A man stands with his back to you, the remains of the book monster in literal shreds at his feet, with a _giant_ glowing — of course it’s glowing — sword slung over his shoulder. Huge. The damned thing looks taller than you. Caught up in your examination of the ludicrously large weapon, you don’t realize he’s turned towards you until he takes a step in your direction and an embarrassingly shrill noise of panic slips from you as you scramble to your feet. 

Look, you never claimed to be very brave.

He pauses, and you sweep your gaze over him while you have the chance. You realize very quickly that he’s about as abnormal as the rest of this place, with a black triangle on his shirtless chest that, as you watch, seeps tendrils of black mist that wisp away into the now-familiar green mist. The rest of his clothes are black, from his pants to his sharp-looking metal gauntlets and boots. It’s a stark contrast against his pale skin and shock-white hair, and if you needed anymore evidence that this guy wasn’t your average joe (you don’t), the unnatural glow of his green eyes is the final nail on the coffin. 

He’s. . . kind’ve really hot, in a way that has you thinking you need to stop with all your vampire flicks on movie night. 

He must have finished his cursory once-over at the same time, because he takes a step towards you. Naturally, you take a step back. He steps again, so you take two back this time. His brow furrows. Even if he just saved you, something in your gut tells you this is _not_ the guy to cling to for safety, even if he is like a solid ten out of ten. 

“No thanks,” You keep your tone polite, because even if you want nothing to do with His Swordliness, you also don’t really want to piss him off either. 

This doesn’t seem to ease his confusion. 

“Isolde?” Wow, okay, while his voice isn’t what you were expecting, it’s really not helping your case on the unwise attraction front— Wait. 

“Isolde?” You echo back, and it’s meant to be a question because that’s not what you were expecting from the hot mystery sword man in the creepy forest and you definitely don’t know a ‘Isolde’, but he must take it as a confirmation because suddenly he is very much in your space. Like really suddenly. One moment he’s a good few feet away, and then he’s got arms around you and your cheek is pressing uncomfortably close to the weird black triangle on his chest. 

Stunned, you don’t really know what to do, but he apparently isn’t phased in the least by your lacklustre response, as he pulls away and lifts a hand to cradle your cheek, expression unmistakably adoring. It’s surprisingly gentle, considering he’s wearing metal gauntlets with very pointy finger-tips, and you sort of. . . blink at him, because you obviously handle surprises _so well_. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up as he leans down towards you, but when it does your hands are flying up to plaster themselves over his mouth. 

“Woah, hey, no! What the hell!” Heat floods your face — the only place that feels warm, really, because you’re actually really cold now that the adrenaline is wearing off — and you glare at him in flustered bewilderment. “Sorry, but I don’t kiss strangers, and I definitely don’t kiss strangers in creepy danger-woods where I almost _died_!”

“I would never let anything harm you again, my love,” Is his solemn reply when you pull your hands away, and you are just really not equipped to deal with the level of intensity he’s putting out, nevermind that he completely ignores you calling him a stranger like it never happened. He does seem to pause to consider the rest of your words, however, and you take that as a good sign, at least until you go to pull away and his arms stay wrapped like bands of unmoving steel around your waist.   
  
“—re right, this place is beneath you, my Queen,” Oh. He’s still going, and you continue to have no idea what he’s talking about. “Come, I will bring us to a place more befitting our reunion, and we need never part again.” 

You don’t have time for more than the sputtered ‘ _What_?’ that escapes you before the mist from his chest surrounds the pair of you, and somewhere between the sudden lurch of movement that has you reeling, the loss of adrenaline, and your body remembering all at once that you’d taken a nasty spill, you pass out. 

Again. 

You really hope this doesn’t become a habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does it count as a one-shot if it actually has more than one chapter?? it does now. 
> 
> ALSO: the book monster is an Actual Thing on the shadow isles. Not even kidding.  
> https://universe.leagueoflegends.com/en_US/region/shadow-isles/?mv=image-gallery-1

**Author's Note:**

> Come bug me at my twitter @spherycalwrites


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